


like a distant diamond sky

by fakecharliebrown



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Canon Compliant, Friendship, Gen, Introspection, Late Night Conversations, M/M, Platonic Relationships, im soft, relationships are not the focus, with the anime at least
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-17
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:55:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25323490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fakecharliebrown/pseuds/fakecharliebrown
Summary: Their laughter dies, and the four of them fall into silence once again. Tooru tears his eyes away from the window, sick of seeing the monochromatic world fly by, and instead turns his gaze toward the ceiling. “Our high school volleyball careers are over,” he says. How many times has he said that tonight?or; Four teenage boys get on a train together on the night that their high school volleyball careers come to an end.
Relationships: Hanamaki Takahiro & Iwaizumi Hajime & Matsukawa Issei & Oikawa Tooru, Hanamaki Takahiro/Matsukawa Issei, Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru
Comments: 21
Kudos: 85





	like a distant diamond sky

**Author's Note:**

> title from untouchable by taylor swift

Their high school volleyball careers are over. 

Tooru expects to fall apart as soon as he’s alone in his room that evening, but somehow, he’s calm. Calm, if a little jittery. His room suddenly feels too small, too quiet, too little after the chaos and noise of the gym where they lost to Karasuno. After pacing a hole into his carpet, Tooru finally decides that enough is enough and he grabs his coat, sneaking downstairs to put on his shoes and slip outside onto his front porch. His parents are still sleeping inside the house, but Tooru has mastered the art of coming and going unnoticed after countless evenings spent wearing himself to the brink of collapse at the school gym after hours. 

Tooru isn’t sure where exactly he’s going to go. A week ago, if he was feeling antsy, he would’ve made a beeline for the gym; he’s got the keys, after all. But now, fresh from their loss, he finds that he doesn’t want to practice his serves, or set the volleyball at different angles and velocities on an endless repeat. He doesn’t want to feel the smooth surface of a volleyball in his hands, doesn’t want to hear his own shoes squeak against the gym floor. 

Iwaizumi is waiting for him at the end of his street, his face buried in the collar of his own jacket. He looks up at the sound of Tooru’s approaching footsteps, his eyes narrowing slightly before he assumes a neutral expression and greets, “Shitty-kawa.” 

“Iwa-chan,” Tooru replies, in the same monotone voice. There’s no need for a facade here; Iwaizumi would see through it, even if Tooru had it in him to lie. 

“You weren’t going back to the gym, were you?” Iwaizumi asks, suspicion heavy in his tone. 

Tooru rolls his eyes. “Honestly, Iwa-chan,” he chides. “Do you  _ see  _ a gym bag?”

Iwaizumi squints. 

Tooru sighs. “No,” he relents. “I wasn’t going to practice.”

“Then, where were you going?” Iwaizumi asks. 

Tooru shrugs. “Nowhere. Anywhere. I’m not fussy.” 

Iwaizumi snorts. It’s not an attractive noise, and still it fills Tooru’s stomach with warmth. “That’s a fucking lie and you know it.”

“Mean,” Tooru huffs, but it falls flat even to his own ears. Iwaizumi sends him a funny look, but Tooru ignores it. “What are you doing out here, anyway?” 

At this, Iwaizumi adopts a pensive look on his face and he turns to face the house across the street, though there’s a distance in his eyes that indicates he isn’t really looking at Tooru’s neighbors’ home. “To be honest,” he starts, “I don’t really know. I was at home, and I was going to go to bed, but I just felt so—”

“Jittery?” Tooru guesses. Iwaizumi lets out a breathy laugh that dissipates into the silent night. 

“Yeah,” he replies. “How’d you know?” 

Tooru hums. “Our high school volleyball careers are over,” he says, instead of admitting that he’s feeling jittery, too. Iwaizumi shoots him a glance that tells Tooru he knows, anyway. 

“I know,” Iwaizumi grunts. He stares at Tooru for several long seconds, a strange, measured look on his face, before he kicks off the sign post he’d been leaning up against and turns to walk away. He motions with his shoulder for Tooru to follow, and their footsteps are the only sounds to be heard for several long seconds. 

“Where are we going?” Tooru asks. 

Iwaizumi shrugs, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his jacket. His gaze never strays from the road in front of them, but his body inclines toward Tooru just slightly. Iwaizumi’s body language has always been like that: subtle, but there if one only knew where to look. And after a decade and change of friendship, Tooru doesn’t even have to look to spot Iwaizumi’s shifts and expressions. 

“Nowhere,” Iwaizumi tells him, echoing Tooru’s previous statement. “Anywhere.” 

A fond grin tugs at the corners of Tooru’s mouth. Were they in public, were they at lunch or in practice surrounded by others’ prying eyes, he might’ve made more of a scene at being mocked. But here, walking side by side with Iwaizumi underneath a blanket of stars, Tooru doesn’t have to be anything, doesn’t have to hide anything, can simply exist as freely and minimally as he wants to. Iwaizumi would tell him that he doesn’t have to hide around other people, too, if he could read Tooru’s mind, but they haven’t achieved complete telepathy yet. Tooru thinks that might be a college-level skill. 

The walk is peaceful, as they pass by the remaining houses in Tooru’s neighborhood before turning out into the main streets of the suburb. The two of them live only two streets away from each other, which has definitely helped develop their friendship over the years; constantly going to the same parks and the same schools and riding the same public transport lines gave them a lot of time to talk, a lot of time to bond. Looking back, Tooru wonders what his life might’ve been like if Iwaizumi hadn’t been just around the corner everyday. He imagines he’d have more friends, would’ve had a larger circle in elementary school, even if that circle diminished by the time they reached middle school and beyond. He wonders what that would’ve changed; would he have a best friend like this, if it hadn’t been Iwaizumi?

Probably not. There’s nobody in the world quite like Iwaizumi, and there’s nobody in the world like Tooru, and there’s no two people in the world who go together quite like Iwaizumi and Tooru do. Tooru wouldn’t call them soulmates, not even at his happiest and lightest mood, but even he knows that Iwaizumi really is something special, to have stuck so resolutely by Tooru’s side all these years, even when Tooru warped himself into what the fame wanted him to be. 

He rolls his eyes at his own internal monologue, biting back a scoff. Fame. Yeah, right. Tooru is known in the volleyball prefecture,  _ maybe  _ he’s made it over to Tokyo and other places like that thanks to  _ Volleyball Monthly,  _ but he isn’t famous by any means, and he probably never will be. 

He can’t decide if that hurts him or not. 

Iwaizumi nudges him suddenly. “Don’t think too hard, you’ll hurt yourself.” 

Tooru scoffs. “Ha, ha,” he drawls. He flexes his bad knee, feeling the stiff brace protest at the movement. The chill of the evening is making the joint ache, though that could also be late-set pain caused by their match earlier in the day. 

“Your knee bothering you again?” Iwaizumi asks. Tooru glances at him; Iwaizumi’s eyes are glued to Tooru’s knee like moths to a flame. He stumbles over a slight crack in the paved sidewalk, and Tooru snickers as Iwaizumi shoots him a dirty look and turns his gaze forward again. 

“Mm,” Tooru tells him. “It’s not unusual; just strain from a long day.” 

“Maybe you should go home,” Iwaizumi suggests. There’s a tone in his voice that lets Tooru know that he isn’t really  _ suggesting  _ anything; he’s stating his opinion outright. It would be a command, if Iwaizumi thought it would actually work on Tooru. But Tooru slightly outruns Iwaizumi in the race of stubbornness, so they both know that orders go in one ear and out the other. 

“Maybe we should figure out where we’re going,” Tooru retorts, but there’s no bite in it. It’s more like another suggestion, light and airy against the wafting, floaty atmosphere of the evening. Miyagi is so quiet at night; Tooru knows that Tokyo sleeps much later than Miyagi, and Miyagi has been staying awake later and later in recent years, but Miyagi is still the countryside no matter how metropolitan it’s become. 

Iwaizumi huffs and says nothing. Tooru turns to gaze all around at their surroundings. Something about the streets and storefronts they pass look different this late at night, bathed in shades of indigo and violet they wouldn’t be in the middle of the day. They look softer, and somehow sharp enough to slice through skin. Tooru hums under his breath, a soft tune he isn’t sure where he picked up. 

Iwaizumi grabs his sleeve to bring him to a stop. Tooru’s knee protests only slightly at the stumble-and-twist move he has to pull off thanks to Iwaizumi’s abruptness. Iwaizumi either misses the wince Tooru is unable to stifle or ignores it, and Tooru glances up to see where they’re stopping. 

“The train station?” he asks, frowning. “Do the trains even run this late?” 

“One,” Iwaizumi agrees. “It’s a one-way to a prefecture I don’t remember the name of.”

Tooru blinks and lowers his eyes to look into the train station. Unlike the rest of Miyagi, the train station’s interior is illuminated by fluorescent, yellow lights. One of the lights Tooru spots on the far side of the station is flickering rapidly, a sharp staccato that hurts his eyes after a few seconds. He averts his gaze, and frowns when he sees two figures approaching at the other end of the street. It’s obvious where they’re going; there’s only one place left in town that’s still open.

“Look,” he says, lifting a finger to point to the approaching figures. 

Iwaizumi hums in the back of his throat, a low and gravelly sound. “Guess we aren’t the only ones who had this idea.” 

Tooru frowns; something about those silhouettes seems familiar, though he can’t quite place why. 

A voice calls, “Oikawa? Iwaizumi?” 

Tooru blinks at the same time Iwaizumi replies, “Makki? Mattsun?” 

The figures pick up speed in their approach, and soon enough they’re standing close enough that even the darkness isn’t enough to wash them out. Hanamaki and Matsukawa both lift their hands in short waves as soon as they’re all close enough to see each other properly. Tooru waves, while Iwaizumi just sends them a stiff nod. 

“What are you guys doing here?” Hanamaki asks. 

Tooru glances at him, scrutinizing. There’s something calm in the way both he and Matsukawa are carrying themselves, a stark contrast from their normally obnoxious selves. Though, Tooru supposes he’s holding himself differently, too, tonight. Something about the stillness of the night doesn’t allow for over the top jokes and memes, or superficial personas that are larger-than-life and too big for the bodies they’re meant to live in. 

“Same as you,” Iwaizumi replies, his voice pitched lower than it was a moment ago. He’s thinking about something, but Tooru isn’t sure what. He isn’t sure he cares, either. Iwaizumi doesn’t seem troubled about whatever it is that he’s thinking about, just contemplative, so Tooru decides to leave it be. 

The four of them stare at each other for a few more seconds, before they all seem to come to a mutual understanding and turn toward the doors to the station. Iwaizumi steps forward at the same time Matsukawa does, both of them reaching for the doors and hesitating. Iwaizumi nods his head toward Matsukawa and steps away. He returns to his place next to Tooru, standing a hair’s breadth closer than he was the first time. Tooru pretends not to notice. 

Matsukawa pulls the door open, bowing low and grinning up at them. “After you, good sirs.” Hanamaki snorts, while Tooru grins and Iwaizumi rolls his eyes. The three of them parade into the station, followed quickly by Matsukawa once they’re all inside. He takes up Hanamaki’s hand once they’re standing next to each other again. The four boys hesitate for only a second before they all head toward the only train that will be leaving the station for the rest of the night. They know, in each of their minds, that their parents won’t be happy with them in the morning, that they won’t have a way to get back after their train drops them off in an unknown, most likely unfamiliar prefecture, but they also have all come to the mutual understanding that they don’t care. Some things just have to be done, no matter the consequences. 

Their high school volleyball careers are over. They’re all in a bit of a weird headspace right now.

The train pulls up to the platform not long after the quartet arrives, coming to a stop with a loud squeal of the brakes. Tooru winces and instinctively raises his hands to cover his ears, even though the loud sound has already passed. Iwaizumi takes him by the elbow and leads him through the open doors and into the train car. He takes a seat near the window, patting the space next to him. Tooru sits where Iwaizumi indicates, and their friends sit down across from them on the other side of the car. The train doors close after a minute or two, and then with another sharp shriek from the tracks, the train is moving. 

Iwaizumi moves over a seat or two, then turns slightly to face Tooru. He pats his lap, and Tooru lifts his bad leg to drape his knee across Iwaizumi thighs. Iwaizumi wastes no time in massaging the sore joint, like they’ve done a thousand times at this point. As the train passes out of the station and into the open countryside once more, the automatic lights flick off and the boys are cloaked in that same blue-tinged darkness they were earlier in the evening. Hanamaki glances out the window, at the same time Matsukawa turns his eyes to the ceiling and sings, “ _ Took the midnight train going anywhere.”  _

Hanamaki snickers, elbowing Matsukawa in the ribs. “Your English is atrocious, dude.” 

“Don’t call me dude when we’re dating,” Matsukawa refutes. 

“Your singing could use some work, too,” Iwaizumi says, without looking up from Tooru’s knee. Tooru just hums, a noncommittal noise. 

Matsukawa huffs. “Y’all are mean.” 

“We do it with love,” Hanamaki assures his boyfriend, his grin a borderline-impish expression that looks more natural on his face than the pensive look he’d been wearing only minutes earlier. As tone deaf as Matsukawa’s little ditty was, it still served its purpose: The ice between them is broken, Tooru can feel it. Even if it didn’t seem like it, they’d been walking on eggshells when they first met up, and when they were in the station. None of them really knew how to act without the assurance of their high school volleyball team, the knowledge that no matter what, they’d all be on the same side of the court. 

Tooru really needs to get his mind off of volleyball. He sighs and turns to look out the window, watching Miyagi pass by in a watercolor blur of greys and blues and purples, splashed by the occasional night owl’s yellow-lit window. 

“Did anybody bother to check which prefecture this train is taking us to?” Iwaizumi asks, breaking the brittle silence that has frosted between them once again. 

Hanamaki shrugs at the same time Matsukawa makes a vague noise of denial at the back of his throat. 

Tooru exhales a breathy laugh he doesn’t really feel. “Maybe it’s for the best we don’t have any kouhais anymore,” he says, “seeing as we clearly can’t even handle ourselves.”

“Ah, but with those guys it’s different,” Hanamaki replies. “At practice, we can just fake it.” 

“I’m pretty sure the underclassmen know we don’t know what we’re doing,” Iwaizumi adds. “They might respect us more if they thought we had even a sliver of authority and maturity.” 

“There is none so wise as he who has played the fool,” Matsukawa quotes. 

Tooru squints at him across the train car. “Did you just pull that out of your ass?” 

Matsukawa starts to shake his head, but ultimately flushes and looks away as Hanamaki cackles. “Mattsun knows a lot about playing the fool, doesn’t he?” he crows. Matsukawa huffs and shoves him, but even he begins to smile after a moment. 

Their laughter dies, and the four of them fall into silence once again. Tooru tears his eyes away from the window, sick of seeing the monochromatic world fly by, and instead turns his gaze toward the ceiling. “Our high school volleyball careers are over,” he says. How many times has he said that tonight?

Someone, either Hanamaki or Matsukawa, hums on the other side of the train. Iwaizumi hits a sensitive spot on Tooru’s knee, eliciting a pained gasp from Tooru and a quick apology from Iwaizumi. 

“Y’all are so domestic,” Matsukawa drawls. “I swear, it’s like you guys are the couple in this train car, and not me and Makki.” 

Iwaizumi doesn’t pay the comment any mind, just simply continues to massage Tooru’s knee. He hits another sensitive spot and Tooru stiffens. Iwaizumi glances up. “Did you do something to it recently? You aren’t usually sensitive there.” 

Tooru shrugs. “Dunno. Might’ve just strained it in practice or a game.” 

Iwaizumi huffs and turns away again. Tooru glances over at Hanamaki and Matsukawa, who are sending him twin unimpressed expressions. 

“Like I said,” Matsukawa deadpans. “Domestic.”

Tooru rolls his eyes. He and Iwaizumi have been like this for as long as he remembers, and while Tooru wouldn’t necessarily be  _ opposed  _ to a relationship, he also doesn’t mind leaving things as they are. He likes where he stands with Iwaizumi, likes the comfort and love between the two of them. He doesn’t want to risk romance ruining that. 

Iwaizumi grunts. “I think the two of you will see what you want to see,” he says, “No matter what either of us tell you.” 

There’s a beat, before Hanamaki says, “I mean, he’s not wrong.” Judging by the softness of his voice, Tooru guesses he’s facing Matsukawa, and not Tooru and Iwaizumi. After a little while, he picks up the sound of Hanamaki and Matsukawa murmuring quietly between themselves, so he tunes them out and instead turns to look out the window. They’re in the real countryside now, passing by the mountains. Trees whir by, looking like darkly-tinted cotton candy with how fast they go by. Tooru takes a second to wonder once more where this train is taking him, and how long it will take to get there. He wonders what they will do once they arrive; will they walk around? Will they find a park? Or will they remain in the train station until morning arrives and they can go home to the lectures they are sure to receive from worried parents? Tooru makes a mental note to text his parents in the morning. He’d do it right that second, but he doesn’t want to risk waking them and making them any angrier than they already are. 

“Our high school volleyball lives are over.” 

Tooru jerks and turns to look for whoever had spoken. It was Hanamaki this time, instead of himself. He stares at his friend, and then suddenly his eyes are watering. He blinks rapidly and lifts a hand to scrub away any tears that manage to escape, but he’s too late; Hanamaki has already seen him, and so has everyone else. Iwaizumi moves one of his hands to Tooru’s shoulder, squeezing it lightly. 

“Hey, man,” Matsukawa starts. He sounds choked up. Tooru sniffles and looks up, only to see that not only is Matsukawa crying, too, but Hanamaki and even Iwaizumi’s eyes are glassy. “It’s alright, we’re all pretty broken up about the loss.”

Tooru can’t stop the tears this time around. Soon enough, his shoulders begin to shake with the force of his silent sobs, his breath hitching. Iwaizumi gently lowers Tooru’s leg back to the ground and moves over to pull Tooru into a hug. Matsukawa and Hanamaki stand up from where they’ve been sitting to come sit on the same side of the car as Iwaizumi and Tooru, and then it’s just the four of them, hugging and crying as the rest of the world passes by in a blur outside the walls of their train car. 

It takes several minutes for them all to calm down enough to separate. Hanamaki and Matsukawa sit down on the floor in front of Iwaizumi and Tooru, as if they don’t want to be quite so far away anymore. They probably don’t, all things considered. After all, their high school volleyball careers are over; they’re all in need of a little camaraderie and support right about now. 

Hanamaki sniffles, grinning a watery smile up at Iwaizumi and Tooru. Matsukawa takes his hand, rubbing small circles into Hanamaki’s knuckles with his thumb. “Do you guys remember in first year,” he starts, “when Mattsun served a ball right to the back of the old captain’s head?” 

Matsukawa shoves him, but he’s still wiping at his own tears and they can all see that he’s smiling. “What about that time Makki fell short and faceplanted trying to get a receive?”

“Or the time Oikawa was distracted and forgot to set the ball, so it hit him in the face,” Iwaizumi pipes up. Tooru leans his head on Iwaizumi’s shoulder, carefully straightening his bad knee. Hanamaki moves over slightly to give Tooru room to stretch. 

Tooru hums. “What about when Iwa-chan was so excited to finally be on the starting line up as a wing spiker that he jumped and spiked the ball directly into the net?”

Hanamaki barks out a wet laugh, reaching out with his foot to nudge Iwaizumi’s leg. “I still don’t know how you managed that one, man.” 

Iwaizumi chuckles. “Don’t ask me,” he replies. “I don’t either.” 

Matsukawa smiles, but it’s a strained sort of smile—a sad smile. “We had a good run, didn’t we?” 

“Lot of victories,” Iwaizumi replies, nodding. 

“Lot of laughs,” Hanamaki adds. 

Tooru hums. “Lot of memories.” 

They all turn to look out the window, to watch the world appear and disappear faster than their sleep-deprived minds can fathom. 

“I can’t believe it’s over,” Matsukawa mumbles. Hanamaki nudges him, and Matsukawa wraps an arm around his boyfriend’s shoulders. They’re all far more mellow than they normally are during the day, but somehow it feels right, as if their normal vibrance doesn’t belong in the quiet of the night. Gradually, rain begins to fall against the window outside, starting as a light drizzle before it turns into full-on pouring, impossibly loud as it pounds against the roof of the train car.

“Me neither,” Hanamaki replies. His voice sounds hollow. Abruptly, everything is suddenly far too loud, and Tooru lets out a quiet whine before he buries his face in Iwaizumi’s shoulder, reaching up to cover his ears with his hands. Iwaizumi wraps an arm around Tooru, holding him in place. It’s safe, here in the train car with his Iwaizumi and his best friends. 

“I’m gonna miss you guys,” Hanamaki starts, picking at the hem of his jacket. Matsukawa turns to press a kiss to the crown of Hanamaki’s head, resting his head there for a second before he picks up his head again. 

“Same,” Iwaizumi murmurs. “It’s gonna be weird to play on a team without you guys.” 

Matsukawa groans theatrically. “How am I ever gonna win without Oikawa’s monster serves?”

Tooru says nothing, but he opens his eyes. All he can see is the blurry, unfocused color of Iwaizumi’s coat in his vision. With his hands over his ears, all of his friends’ voices sound muffled and distant. 

Hanamaki snorts at the same time Iwaizumi kicks Matsukawa, who dodges at the last second. “Do something for yourself, dumbass,” Iwaizumi snaps, but they all know that he doesn’t mean it. They all know that volleyball is the one thing where all four of them give their best without fail. Just like they all know that their high school volleyball careers are over, and nothing is ever going to be the same again. Tooru turns his head to look out the window behind him and Iwaizumi, his cheek resting on Iwaizumi’s shoulder. 

They lapse into silence once more. There’s something peaceful about their shared melancholy, something intimate and utterly revealing, and yet secure and protected. Maybe it’s that they’re the only ones on the train, the only ones in their small pocket of the universe destined for a location they know nothing of. Maybe it’s that they’re awake while the rest of the world sleeps, oblivious to the turmoil four boys are facing in a train car after midnight the day their volleyball careers are over. Or maybe it is simply that they are together. Maybe it is simply that in that train car, in that moment, they are the only people in the world. 

They are silent until the train car pulls into the station, the sign boasting the name of a prefecture Tooru doesn’t recognize or care to remember. Matsukawa and Hanamaki are laying on top of each other on the floor as the brakes squeal and the car grinds to a stop. Iwaizumi and Tooru nudge them awake from their dozing, watching them yawn and stretch as they sit up. 

Matsukawa groans, at the same time Hanamaki fixes Iwaizumi and Tooru with a sharp glare. “Next time, you two are on the floor.” 

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes, offering Tooru a hand up. Tooru takes it, leaning heavily against his best friend as the four of them dismount the train and step into the brightly lit station. They squint their eyes against the fluorescent lights, unused to the light after having spent so long on the train in the darkness. Hanamaki makes a beeline for the nearest bathroom, which is thankfully unlocked, and the four of them take a moment to freshen up, splashing water on their faces to wake up, before they decide to venture out of the station and see what the prefecture beyond looks like. 

In truth, it looks a lot like Miyagi. Tooru thinks that, in a parallel universe, this is what Miyagi would be. It’s simple, with small storefronts and brick buildings and well-worn, cracked sidewalks. There are potholes in the main road that have been filled in with gravel. The painted lines on the street are faded and discolored from years of wear and weather, and weeds pop up between every crack in the pavement. Tooru spots weeds and wildflowers crawling up the exterior walls of several buildings forged of brick and stone. 

“This place looks like Miyagi after the human race has died out and Miyagi has fallen into disrepair,” Matsukawa remarks. 

“What the fuck,” Iwaizumi deadpans. “Literally what goes on in your head that that’s the first thought you have?” 

Tooru chuckles at the same time Hanamaki drapes himself all over Matsukawa, declaring loudly, “I, for one,  _ love  _ Matsukawa’s unfathomable and incomprehensible train of thought.” 

Iwaizumi just scoffs and rolls his eyes. Tooru takes a discreet step closer to Iwaizumi. Iwaizumi responds by wrapping an arm around Tooru’s waist. 

They walk in silence for a while. Tooru begins to hum again, a sweet and soft melody whose origin he still can’t recall. Hanamaki, walking ahead of him, sways softly to the beat, occasionally hip-checking Matsukawa. Matsukawa takes Hanamaki’s hand in his and swings their arms back and forth in time with Tooru’s music. Iwaizumi is quiet, but his arm around Tooru’s waist and his body walking beside Tooru’s is a familiar, comforting warmth for which Tooru is grateful. A soft breeze blows through, raising goosebumps up and down Tooru’s arms. 

“Hey,” Matsukawa says suddenly. “Look, there’s a park over there.” 

“Dibs on the swings,” Tooru says, leaning his head on Iwaizumi’s shoulder again. 

Hanamaki turns around specifically to roll his eyes at Tooru. “Does that mean Iwaizumi will be on the swings, too?” 

Iwaizumi grunts. 

Tooru grins. “Come on, Makki,” he croons. “You know Iwa-chan and I are a package deal.” 

Matsukawa gags. Hanamaki rolls his eyes again, muttering, “Fucking gay,” under his breath.

Tooru just laughs, reveling in the warm feeling slowly unfurling in his chest. Iwaizumi leads him over to the swings in the park, but instead of sitting down on the swing next to him, he stands behind Tooru and pushes him gently. Tooru feels like a little kid again, like he and Iwaizumi are playing at the park on the weekends to evade their mothers and their siblings and their homework and their chores. He recalls how isolated those outings had felt back then, too, like there was nobody else in the world other than himself and Iwaizumi. Those memories had always been so precious to Tooru, a feeling he couldn’t reclaim but never wanted to forget. 

It feels nice to welcome Hanamaki and Matsukawa into his and Iwaizumi’s eternal paradise. It feels like they’ve always been there, feels like the paradise has always been waiting for their arrival. It feels like this is how it’s meant to be. Maybe it is. Tooru doesn’t usually give fate or chance much credit; he’s always thought that the world was what you made of it. He still thinks that, if he’s being honest, but on nights like these, he can imagine the existence of fate. On nights like this, he can believe that some people are meant to meet, meant to be friends, meant to love each other. Some things are always going to happen, no matter where life takes you. Tooru doesn’t know what he did that led him to these three boys, his closest friends, but he is grateful that it happened. 

Eventually, Iwaizumi gets tired and goes to sit down on the swing next to Tooru’s. Matsukawa and Hanamaki are laying on the grass in front of the swings, hands interlocked. Tooru thinks they might be asleep, until Matsukawa says, “Our high school volleyball careers are over.” 

Hanamaki buries his face in Matsukawa’s shoulder. His own shoulders are shaking slightly. Tooru averts his eyes to give them privacy, humming a single note under his breath. He kicks off the ground lightly with his toe, swinging gently. Iwaizumi is still, watching Tooru. 

“Yeah,” he says. “They are.”

“Everything’s gonna be different now,” Hanamaki mumbles, his voice muffled. 

Tooru hums again. The night air is cold against his face. He shivers, and tucks his face into the collar of his jacket. He wishes he’d had the foresight to wear a scarf, but he wasn’t planning on leaving Miyagi when he stepped onto his front porch what seems like forever ago. He’s exhausted, and sad, and cold, and in pain, but still—he can’t help but wish that this night never ends. 

Because when the morning comes, the four of them will go their separate ways, and they will spend the rest of the weekend alone. On Monday, Seijoh will have a new captain, and a new starting lineup, and none of it will include the four of them. From there, it will be just like Hanamaki said: Nothing will ever be the same as it is right in that moment. 

“Do you guys think the team will be okay without us?” Matsuakwa asks, staring up at the open sky. The stars reflect in his eyes, making them look like they’re sparkling. 

Iwaizumi grunts. Tooru thinks that Iwaizumi’s grunt is Tooru’s version of a noncommittal hum. “They’ll need time to adjust,” he huffs. “But they’ll be fine. Contrary to popular belief, we don’t carry the team completely on our own.” 

Tooru squints, unable to tell if the dig is directed at himself. 

After a few minutes pass in silence, Hanamaki speaks. “I love you guys,” he says. “I’m really fucking glad we got to play volleyball together for the last three years.” 

Matsukawa’s eyes are glassy again. “I know we’ve had our ups and downs, but it’s been an honor memeing with you fine gentlemen.” 

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes. “We haven’t graduated yet, dipshits. There’s no need to act so final.” 

“Eh,” Tooru pipes up, “I don’t know. This is probably going to be the last night we’ll ever have quite like this, Iwa-chan.” He pauses, his toe dragging in the dirt and bringing his swing to a stop. “There’ll never be another night we spend together after a volleyball game, win or lose. There’ll never be another night when we’re all on the same team.” 

“Hey,” Iwaizumi says sternly. “Team or no team, we aren’t gonna fucking lose each, you hear me? We’ve come through all of high school together. I don’t see why we can’t survive college together, too.”

“Aw, Iwa-chan,” Tooru teases, grinning slightly. He sways his swing to the side to nudge Iwaizumi’s. “I didn’t know you had a soft side.” 

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes. “Shut the fuck up, Shitty-kawa.”

Hanamaki snorts. “Iwaizumi’s probably right, y’know? We’re probably freaking ourselves out over nothing.” 

“This shit’s scary,” Matsukawa replies. “I don’t know why I didn’t think this was going to end, but now it’s over and I feel like I’ve been blindsided.” 

“Some things you just wish could last forever,” Tooru says, his eyes falling to the ground beneath his feet. “And you get so caught up in the wish, you forget that it’s still gonna end at some point.” 

“When did we all get to be so sappy?” Hanamaki asks the starry sky. “And poetic?” 

“Bring back the memes,” Matsukawa adds, cupping his hands around his mouth. Tooru chuckles and rolls his eyes. Iwaizumi rolls his eyes too, but there’s a fond gleam in his eyes and in the small smile playing on his lips. Tooru can’t help but soften at the look on Iwaizumi’s face. 

“Our high school volleyball careers are over,” he murmurs. “But maybe it’s not the end of the world.” 

Iwaizumi turns to him. “Yeah,” he breathes. “We’re gonna be okay.”

“We’ll be okay,” Tooru echoes. 

Hanamaki picks it up, too. “We’ll be okay.”

“We’ll be okay,” Matsukawa agrees, and then it cycles back to Iwaizumi again. They say it over and over, as the sun’s first rays begin to lighten the sky. They say those three words again and again, rehashing them and ingraining them into their brains until they have no choice but to believe that it’s true. 

The sunrise is a sight to behold, bright streaks of pink and purple and orange painting the sky a magnificent watercolor. And there, bathed in the golden light of the morning sun, as Matsukawa and Hanamaki slip into a doze and Iwaizumi reaches out to tangle Tooru’s fingers in his own, Tooru decides that the world can continue on moving again. It’s a nice moment, a memory he will cherish until the details become as blurred as the trees that passed by the train car’s window mere hours ago, but—

There are more nice moments to come. Tooru doesn’t want to miss them. 

-

On the train ride home, they are once again the only people in their train car. Hanamaki and Matsukawa are asleep on top of each other. Iwaizumi is massaging Tooru’s knee again. Tooru suspects that Iwaizumi just likes the repeated motion of it, in addition to the comfort it brings Tooru. Tooru gazes out the window, watching the green trees turned golden in the sunlight pass by at a speed too fast for his sleep-deprived brain to keep up with. He sighs, humming that same little melody from the night before when they were walking among a prefecture they don’t know, a city they’ve never been to before. When they were the only people in the world.

He considers confessing to Iwaizumi, right then and there. He thinks about spilling every feeling he’s ever had for his best friend, as Iwaizumi massages his knee and the sun steadily streaming in through the window warms all four of them. But there’s a certain stillness in the air, a sense of tranquility that he doesn’t want to ruin. 

And, besides—he has time. 

“What’re you thinking about?” Iwaizumi asks, his voice near a whisper so as not to disturb their sleeping friends. 

Tooru allows his melody to taper off, a soft smile on his face. “Nothing. Anything.” 

Iwaizumi is looking at him funny again. “Our high school volleyball careers are over.” 

Tooru hums. “We’ll be okay.” 

Iwaizumi smiles.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> oof this was fun to write,, im soft for these boys n their friendship
> 
> dont be a stranger! come say hello on tumblr @acedabi or @fake-charliebrown


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